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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24551023">Open your eyes and see</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelofGrace96/pseuds/AngelofGrace96'>AngelofGrace96</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>ADHD Ruffnut Thorston, ADHD Tuffnut Thorston, Ableism, Autistic Character, Autistic Fishlegs Ingerman, Autistic Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Gen, I'm sorry but there's quite a bit of ableism, It is gonna get better tho!, Snippets, i'll add more tags as they become relevant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:22:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,730</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24551023</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelofGrace96/pseuds/AngelofGrace96</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh aye, I’ve got another story about trolls for you.” Gobber grinned and leaned in conspiratorially. “Socks aren’t the only thing trolls steal, lad. Have you ever heard of changelings?”</p>
<p>Snippets of a world where Hiccup Horendous Haddock is autistic. Mostly canon compliant. Pre First film all the way up to HTTYD Homecoming.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Scolded by Stoick</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Welcome to my fic! I'm kind of nervous, this is the first multichapter I've posted in nearly 8 years, and it's about something pretty personal to me. Still, let me know what you think, and feel free to give suggestions. Don't worry, Toothless will be coming in soon, I promise!</p>
<p>Title from Sticks and Stones by Jónsi.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Hiccup had always been odd. Hiccup knew it, Stoick knew it, and the rest of the village, except maybe old Gothi, knew it.</p>
<p class="western">Okay, maybe that wasn’t true. He’d been a normal enough baby, if a little subdued after his mother had been killed, but he babbled, laughed, cried, crawled, all the normal things babies did. Admittedly, despite his Chiefship, Stoick didn’t spend much time around babies after blessing them, so he might have missed something.</p>
<p class="western">But then the differences started to creep in, and by the time he was talking Stoick could tell something was clearly wrong. He was so shy, edging away from the rough play that encouraged young Vikings to grow big and strong. He was so quiet, willing to happily draw in the dirt for hours without uttering a word. Or he would talk for hours, about the oddest things. One time he’d tried to tell Stoick about the different kinds of clouds for two hours! Not that observation wasn’t a good trait in a warrior, but certainly not observation of clouds. And he actually liked learning to read, soaking up the information like a sponge and going hunting for more. Stoick’s nephew, Snotlout, had to be dragged into learning his letters, like most young vikings.</p>
<p class="western">And the moving! Stoick didn’t understand why, but he was constantly flapping his hands up and down, <span>running his hand through his hair</span>, shifting in his seat, and <span>drawing</span>. He tried to make him stop, but the look of frustration and pain on his face was so obvious that Stoick didn’t have the heart to keep it up. Despite everything, he loved his son, and he didn’t want to see him miserable.</p>
<p class="western">However, that was no excuse for Hiccup embarrassing him in public. Stoick had taken Hiccup on a tour of the docks. 9 was young, sure, but not too young to start learning about his future village. However, Hiccup was not listening to the lecture Stoick was giving as he led him around the shipyards, instead he was dragging his feet, walking along with his shoulders hunched, and <span>flapping his hands stiffly at his sides</span>. His face was screwed up, and all in all, he looked like the most miserable uninterested boy Stoick had ever seen.</p>
<p class="western">Despite his attempts to ignore, if not accept Hiccup’s oddities, <span>Stoick was very aware that he</span> didn’t want the rest of the village seeing. Word would get around, and he’d get even more pointed comments about choosing a new heir than he was already. So he strode back towards Hiccup, grabbed his shoulder, and boomed, “Keep up, son!” as they marched forwards.</p>
<p class="western">Under his breath, he snapped, “Stop that twitching. Keep it to the house or the forest, remember?”</p>
<p class="western">“I’m sorry, dad.” Hiccup looked even more miserable than he did before. Stoick hoped he wouldn’t cry. Another un-vikinglike trait. “It’s just too loud here.”</p>
<p class="western">Stoick looked around in confusion. Sure the fishermen were yelling to each other as they brought in the fish for the day, and thuds of barrels hitting the deck echoed around, but it wasn’t that loud. It wasn’t like the Great Hall in the middle of an argument. Stoick didn’t understand, but brushed it off. Hiccup would be chief one day, he’d just have to get used to it.</p>
<p class="western">“Come now Hiccup, it’s not that bad.”</p>
<p class="western">Hiccup’s shoulders slumped slightly, but he grabbed his sleeve with one hand and tried to keep up.</p>
<p class="western">As soon as they got home, Stoick turned to Hiccup. “You have to keep that out of sight! Do you want the whole village talking about… <span>that</span>?” He waved a hand helplessly at Hiccup.</p>
<p class="western">“You just gestured to all of me.” Hiccup muttered, looking at the floor. Stoick <span>growled. </span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>At least look me in the eye when you’re talking to me.” Hiccup’s head jerked up from the floor, his eyes meeting Stoick for a second before sliding sideways to stare at the wall behind him. </span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Stoick sighed, figuring it was the best he was going to get. Hiccup rocked forwards and backwards, from his heel to his toes. “Can I go to the forest?”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>He waved him off. “Yes, fine. Don’t let anyone see you or hear you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hiccup, grinned, bouncing in place before shooting out the back door. At least he was fast. At this rate, he’d never turn out a warrior, but at least maybe he could avoid dragons long enough to reach adulthood. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Stoick collapsed into his chair and tried to ignore the fact that Hiccup would rather spend the majority of his time in his room, drawing in his notebooks, or out in the forest, and not learning from his father or spending time with his peers. He looked at his helmet, sitting on the table, and sighed. “What am I going to do with him, Val?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chasing Trolls</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gobber tells Hiccup about Changlings, and Hiccup goes on a hunt.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Hiccup stared with rapt attention as Gobber wove a fascinating story about trolls that snuck into his house and stole all of his left socks. He <span>snorted</span> at the wide dramatic gestures Gobber put on, and even saw his dad snort wryly at what Hiccup guessed was an obvious lie.</p>
<p class="western">Gobber finished up the tale, and Hiccup clapped enthusiastically. Gobber was an old friend of Stoick’s and had practically raised him. If anyone in the village knew more about his… behaviours than unsubstantiated rumour, it was Gobber.</p>
<p class="western">Gobber preened and bowed at the attention. “Another story? I like the trolls!” Hiccup asked hopefully.</p>
<p class="western">“Oh aye, I’ve got another story about trolls for you.” Gobber grinned and leaned in conspiratorially. “Socks aren’t the only thing trolls steal, lad. Have you ever heard of changelings?”</p>
<p class="western">“I think that’s enough storytelling for tonight.” Hiccup’s dad butted in sharply, and Hiccup saw something pass between them. Something he didn’t understand. However, Gobber nodded, then dramatically stretched his arms above his head and yawned.</p>
<p class="western">“Look at the time. I’d best be getting home. See you later, Hiccup!” As he headed out.</p>
<p class="western">“But it’s barely dark out.” Hiccup said to his dad, looking out the window in confusion. Stoick ignored the implied question, gesturing to the table.</p>
<p class="western">“Let’s eat.”</p>
<p class="western">Hiccup obediently sat down, and mechanically ate the slightly too burnt fish (his dad had never quite gotten the hang of cooking, although he knew enough to make sure neither he not Hiccup would starve), but he was still thinking about the intriguing start of Gobber’s aborted story.</p>
<p class="western">“By the way Hiccup, I’m needed for a dispute tomorrow, and knowing those two thick headed lugs, it’s going to take me all morning. Once you’ve done your chores you’re free for the day. Maybe you could go hang out with Snotlout?” Stoick offered, hal<span>f-</span>heartedly.</p>
<p class="western">“Yeah, maybe dad.” Hiccup agreed, his mind already whirling with plans.</p>
<p class="western">The next morning, Hiccup sped through his chores, then, double checking his Dad had left for the dispute, he sprinted down to Gobber’s forge. Unfortunately, Gobber was busy, so Hiccup waved to him and sat down around the back of the forge, where he was less likely to be spotted and used for target practice by any of the roaming teenage gangs, and drew lumpy, rock-like figures in the dirt with a stick.</p>
<p class="western">Eventually Gobber finished the piece he was working on, and Hiccup trotted around the front of the forge to catch his attention. Gobber saw him and waved.</p>
<p class="western">“Hey Hiccup! What’s up?”</p>
<p class="western">“Can you tell me the story about changelings?” Hiccup begged. Gobber’s brow creased.</p>
<p class="western">“I dunno Hiccup, your dad doesn’t want me to talk about it...”</p>
<p class="western">“I’m not gonna tell him!” Hiccup exclaimed indignantly. “Does it look like I want to get in more trouble?”</p>
<p class="western">Gobber snorted, nearly smacking himself in the face with his prosthetic hammer hand, before he switched it out for the much lighter <span>hook he wore when he wasn’t using anything specific. “Alright fine, but I’m making it quick. I got weapons to forge.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hiccup nodded, looking around for somewhere to sit, and just ended up plonking himself down on the floor. Gobber snorted but let it go. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Okay, so. Socks aren’t the only things trolls steal. They steal all sorts of things, mostly the things that people would miss most. But the craziest thing they steal… are babies.” Gobber leaned in dramatically. </span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Wouldn’t the parents notice their baby missing?” Hiccup asked. </span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Ah, but trolls are sneaky. They leave a troll baby in it’s place, and magic it so it looks human. It even acts human, mostly. But it doesn’t connect with people, and eventually it’ll make it’s way back to the trolls to be with it’s own kind. And the human babies are never heard from, again.” Gobber finished mysteriously. A viking dropped a couple of swords on the front bench and hollered for Gobber. He looked down at Hiccup and said, not unkindly, “Run along now Hiccup.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hiccup left, heading into the forest now that he’d gotten what he wanted. It all made far too much sense. His dad was always going on about how he never did things normally, and on the rare occasions he tried to talk to the kids his age, it always went wrong somehow. Most of the time Hiccup couldn’t even figure out what he said or did wrong. Maybe he was a changeling. He could have easily been swapped in the cradle when his dad was out in a raid. It explained everything! Hiccup perked up, before something occurred to him. He didn’t know where the trolls lived. He was fairly sure it would either have to be the forest, the mountains, or the shore. The way Gobber described them he doubted they could swim, so he ruled out coming from the sea, which was a relief. Large as the island was, it was still contained. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hiccup spent the next few weeks combing every inch of the forest. His dad noticed he was out more than usual, but to Hiccup’s relief, he didn’t say anything. Hiccup thought resignedly that he was probably relieved he didn’t have to deal with more of Hiccup’s behaviours. Meanwhile, Hiccup found it quite freeing. The silence of the forest was much nicer than the sharp clatter and bustle of the village, and the trees and various animals he saw didn’t care what he did with his body. They didn’t like it when he yelled though, so he kept that to a minimum. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>For a small boy, Hiccup was surprisingly fast, and had good endurance, so after two months he was pretty certain he’d covered most of the forest. He’d found some really nice hiding spots as well, for future use. He was tossing up whether he wanted to check the beach or the mountains next, when his father decided he’d like to try and mould him into a proper viking again, and took him fishing. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Fortunately for Hiccup’s plans, they didn’t go out in a boat. Instead they went to the beach area where most fish swum, and Stoick showed Hiccup how to cast out his line. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hiccup thought that fishing might be something he could be good at, but after not very long at all, he found it horrendously boring. He tried to wiggle in his seat, but got a sharp reprimand from Stoick and settled down grumpily. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Eventually Stoick got engrossed in a fish catching his line, and pulling it in, and Hiccup seized his chance to sneak away. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>He made sure to stick to the shadow of the cliffs, just in case his dad came after him, and eventually found a fairly large cave to wander into. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Hello? Any trolls here?” He called out, walking inside. He heard some rocks clattering from deeper in the cave, so he followed the sound. </span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Trolls? Please, can you help me? I… I’m a changeling. And I heard you took us back, and… I don’t want to be here any more. I’m sure the troll home is nicer than here. My dad is so mean. Please take me back.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>His voice echoed. Hiccup waited hopefully, but the only thing that broke the silence was Stoick’s loud and angry voice filled the cave. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Hiccup! Where are you!?” </span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Startled, Hiccup slipped, landing in a shin deep puddle of water. Wincing at the awful feel of soggy boots, he reluctantly looked back into the cave, before dragging himself to the entrance where a large and very angry viking was waiting. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Why can’t you listen?” Stoick snapped, grabbing Hiccup’s arm and dragging him along behind him. “I’m trying to teach you and all you do is wander off! Why do I even bother.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hiccup frowned, trying to ignore the sting, but wisely didn’t say anything. He didn’t see the concerned look Stoick shot at him. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know changelings are traditionally from the fae, but I wanted to weave in some httyd lore and I figured why not. </p>
<p>Again, I promise these will get less depressing as it goes on.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Trying to Socialise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hiccup is encouraged to spend time with the kids his age. It doesn't go well.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Hiccup was panicking. His dad had firmly sent him off to spend time with the kids his age. These <span>kids</span> would be his future classmates in dragon training, although that was looking less and less likely as the village saw more of his… Hiccup-ness.</p>
<p class="western">Hiccup saw the group approaching, led by swaggering Snoutlout, his cousin and bully, and cringed, trying to keep the frantic energy in his whole body to a shuffling foot on the floor.</p>
<p class="western">“Snotlout! Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Fishlegs, A-astrid.” Hiccup’s voice wobbled uncertainly, and his hand jerked up to run through his hair when the whole group laughed. Even Astrid smirked, making Hiccup’s face flush with shame.</p>
<p class="western">“What’s up, twitchy? Your dad kick you out of the house for the day?” Snotlout laughed.</p>
<p class="western">Hiccup sighed. “He said we had to spend time together as future dragon training classmates.” He answered frankly, not realising Snotlout had been mocking him instead of asking a serious question.</p>
<p class="western">“Let you, hang out with us? Ha.” Snotlout laughed and rolled his eyes. “Although going down to the dragon ring does sound fun. Let’s go.”</p>
<p class="western">“Race you!” Tuffnut yelled, and sprinted off, his sister fast on his heels. Hiccup looked after them enviously. Being able to burn the energy out of his body by running was one of his favourite things to do in the forest, but doing it in the village just got yelled questions of “What is he doing out here?”</p>
<p class="western">The group wandered towards the Ring at a leisurely pace, Hiccup trailing awkwardly behind them. Fishlegs was babbling about the latest fact he learned from the Book of Dragons.</p>
<p class="western">“-And they can disguise themselves by changing colours to blend in with their environment! And they spit this super strong acid that can burn through rocks! And-”</p>
<p class="western">“Yeah, whatever, shut up.” Snotlout interrupted, looking ahead to where the group had finally caught up with the twins, to see them wrestling on the ground, looking fully willing to murder each other. Hiccup shot Fishlegs an encouraging smile, which the larger boy reciprocated.</p>
<p class="western">“Break it up.” Astrid snapped. The twins groaned but sat up, looking up at the group.</p>
<p class="western">“So what are we gonna do?” Tuffnut asked.</p>
<p class="western">“Uh...” Snotlout faltered.</p>
<p class="western">“We could do axe throwing?” Astrid suggested. Hiccup stared at her.</p>
<p class="western">“Astrid, you gotta be joking. We’re 1<span>2</span>.”</p>
<p class="western">Astrid nodded as though that made perfect sense. Snotlout butted in. “We’re not doing axe throwing, you’d clobber us. What about a race from here to the Great Hall?”</p>
<p class="western">The twins perked up. Hiccup subtly perked up too. Fishlegs sagged, but Snotlout ignored it, staring hopefully at Astrid. She thought about it seriously, before nodding. “It would be good training.”</p>
<p class="western">“Great! 3 2 1 go!” Snotlout yelled, shoving Hiccup to the side and sprinting out of the ring. The twins were hot on his heels, with Astrid and Fishlegs not long behind. Hiccup staggered, then took off. Being able to beat Snotlout at something was worth anything.</p>
<p class="western">He passed Fishlegs easily, the larger boy puffing and panting up the hill. The twins had easily taken the lead, although they were now paying more attention to shoving and trying to trip each other.</p>
<p class="western">Astrid had passed Snotlout, who for all his bravado was barely ahead of Fishlegs. Hiccup ran in a wide circle around Snotlout, hearing a puffed growl behind him, before quickly catching up to Astrid.</p>
<p class="western">They were in the thick of the village now. Hiccup ignored the stares, that Hiccup the Useless was spending time with his peers. He just focused on the race. Astrid was right ahead of him. He didn’t give her as wide a berth, but he definitely didn’t stay in grabbing range.</p>
<p class="western">Hiccup stared as he realised that despite his size and uselessness, he had <span>passed</span> two thirds of the group in a race. They were on the stairs leading up to the hall now, and the twins were so involved in their rivalry that Hiccup was almost certain they’d forgotten about the race. It wouldn’t be the first time, for them.</p>
<p class="western">He pushed himself, sprinting harder, and managed to slip by them just as Ruffnut yanked on her brother’s braid. He heard their twin yells of “Hey!” but there was no way he was giving up this close.</p>
<p class="western">He slammed a hand on the door to the Great Hall and immediately collapsed on his back, heaving for breath. Then it sunk in and he sat bolt upright. He’d won! He’d beaten all the kids his age in a race! Maybe he’d get some recognition for once!</p>
<p class="western">“What the fuck was that, Useless!?!” Snotlout snarled, stomping right up to Hiccup, and aiming a kick at his ribs that Hiccup rolled away from.</p>
<p class="western">Or not.</p>
<p class="western">“I won!” Hiccup objected, dragging himself upright. He could see the twins giving him a grudging look of respect, but he knew it wouldn’t last. Without the group leaders, Snotlout and Astrid behind him, the twins would forget in a week.</p>
<p class="western">“You must have cheated!” Snotlout snapped, exertion and embarrassment battling to create an ugly flush on his face.</p>
<p class="western">Hiccup rolled his eyes. “How am I gonna cheat in a race you thought up today?” Snotlout sneered, unable to come up with a retort, but Astrid interrupted him.</p>
<p class="western">“Just leave.” She hissed. She had a strange look on her face that Hiccup couldn’t identify, but it definitely wasn’t a friendly one. Head down, he headed back down the stairs.</p>
<p class="western">Halfway down he saw Fishlegs, who’d given up on a sprint and was just jogging to get there. He stared when he saw Hiccup on the way down, and paused in his running to bounce on his heels for a second, the way he did when he was excited. The adults called it ‘Battle reflexes’, but it looked like his fidgets to Hiccup. Still, he wasn’t about to drag Fishlegs into the kind of scrutiny he was under, so he said nothing.</p>
<p class="western">“Did you win?” Fishlegs asked in a hushed breath, looking up to the Great Hall as though it could hear him. Hiccup’s lip lifted in a tiny smirk, and he nodded.</p>
<p class="western">“Woah...” Fishlegs whispered. He leaned forwards, but Snotlout appeared at the top of the stairs.</p>
<p class="western">“Come ON, Fishlegs!” He yelled. Fishlegs flinched and started jogging up the stairs again.</p>
<p class="western">Hiccup trudged home. His dad was <span>at home, poring over some battle maps.</span></p>
<p class="western">“How’d it go?” he asked distractedly.</p>
<p class="western">Several answers battled for dominance on Hiccup’s tongue. <em>They wouldn’t even let me join. Snotlout shoved me into a wall again. I beat them all in a race.</em> In the end he said nothing, just shrugging.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So yeah you can probably tell I headcanon Fishlegs as autistic and Ruff and Tuff as adhd. No idea how much it's gonna feature in the future.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Overload</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hiccup starts work at the forge, and starts learning how to manage himself.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning for sensory overload and a meltdown in this chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">When Hiccup turned 1<span>3</span>, he did not join his peers in <span>the fire brigade</span>. Stoick ignored the furtive looks and whispers, and dragged Hiccup to the forge.</p><p class="western">“Hiccup, you’re going to be learning your trade from Gobber. At least...” He trailed off awkwardly, but Hiccup could hear it. <em>At least then you’d be useful.</em></p><p class="western">“Oh great. Me, with all my, me-ness, around all this hot metal and fire? Sounds like a perfect combination.” Hiccup snarked. Gobber snorted.</p><p class="western">“Oh you’ll be wearing an apron while you’re in here, or you’ll answer to me.” He draped an apron over Hiccup’s head. He had to wrap the ties all the way around his waist and back to tie it, but it was solid, thick leather, and certainly better than nothing.</p><p class="western">Stoick grunted in acceptance and left. Hiccup looked at Gobber awkwardly. “Sooo, how do we start? Do I watch you for a bit, or-” He was cut off as Gobber dumped a bent and chipped sword in front of him.</p><p class="western">“Put that into the forge, the heated pit there, then go pull on the bellows, that large leather triangle shape until the metal is glowing white.” He instructed. Hiccup stared at him in dismay.</p><p class="western">“Right now?” His hand twitched.</p><p class="western">“I believe in learning on the job.” Gobber answered, walking over to the solid metal piece Hiccup would soon learn was called an Anvil. “Let’s go.”</p><p class="western">Hiccup walked home, his head buzzing. It felt like Gobber gave only cursory explainations, but there was still so much to take note of that Hiccup was scared of missing it all. And the noise! Hiccup didn’t swing the hammer yet, but even standing in the same room as Gobber as he worked the metal made his ears ring and his head pound. It was almost interesting enough to make up for it.</p><p class="western">“How’d it go?” Stoick asked as Hiccup walked in the door.</p><p class="western">“It was so fast, but I learnt a lot! Gobber showed me all of his tools, the fire pit is called the forge, and the pointy metal piece is called the anvil-” Hiccup was off, trying to distil everything he’d learnt down to one long breath. Eventually he noticed his father’s attention was less than enthusiastic, and cut himself off.</p><p class="western">“I learnt a lot. I’m glad. Am I going to be apprenticing there from now on?”</p><p class="western">Stoick nodded, glad to actually be able to contribute to the conversation. “Yes. You’ll be going every weekday, and if Gobber needs your help on the weekends for a particular reason, he’ll let you know.”</p><p class="western">Later in his room that night, Hiccup grabbed his notebook. Before now his charcoal drawings had always attempted to recreate nature or his fellow vikings (and maybe one female teenager featured more often than not), but for the first time he turned it towards ideas of his own creation. Seeing Gobber bend metal to his hand that day had filled his head with ideas, ones that he scrambled to put down to paper.</p><p class="western">
  <span>Despite it being winter, with snow on the ground, the forge was small and kept hot by the blazing furnace, so Hiccup shed his winter gear at the door, or braved the cold and sprinted from his house without it. </span>
</p><p class="western">The days flew by, with Hiccup going to assist Gobber most days, and while still firmly staying as an assistant, being given more use of the various tools around the forge as his knowledge grew. <span>His ideas for dragon catching machines got more and more refined as well, although his knowledge of the actual mechanics was guesswork at best, and his metalworking skill was even less solid. Still, lack of actual skill was not enough to quiet Hiccup’s mind, and every night he filled pages of his notebooks with notes, sketches, and the start of designs. </span></p><p class="western">
  <span>The only problem with working with Gobber was the noise. Hiccup left every day, his head aching from the incredibly loud pounding of the hammer. He dreaded the day he’d be asked to wield the hammer himself, but he knew the day would come soon. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Two weeks later, it arrived. Hiccup shed his winter gear at the door to the forge, and walked in to hear Gobber say “Ah, there you are, lad! I’ll have you working on the tools at the forge today!”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Hiccup cringed, and muttered, “Yay...” under his breath, but continued walking forwards. Gobber, much like his dad, did not take no for an answer. </span>
</p><p class="western">“<span>Gobber turned to face him, holding a small hammer in his hands. Hiccup squinted at it in confusion. Gobber usually used his prosthetic for forge work, and this hammer was almost too small for his hands, so where did it come from?</span></p><p class="western">“<span>Made it myself!” Gobber said proudly, handing it to Hiccup. Small as it was, it was surprisingly heavy, and Hiccup nearly dropped it. “Can’t exactly share this one, and I though you’ve been doing well, so here! Your very own forge hammer.”</span></p><p class="western">
  <span>Hiccup forgot his dread for a moment, and smiled widely. It was very nice of Gobber to make him his own forge tool, and especially to make one that he could actually lift. He knew Gobber could see how much it meant to him, so he raised his head, looked him squarely in the eye for a second, and said “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Gobber hmphed good naturedly, and directed him to stand in front of the forge. “Wait till the metal’s red hot, not white hot, we don’t want it too soft, then start swinging. Remember, with those noodle arms, you’ve got to give it all you’ve got.”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Hiccup kept an eye on the metal, and then gave it his best swing. Instantly, a horrible vibration shot up his arm, as well as the loudest forge sound he’d ever heard coming from right in front of him. Only years of suppressing his reactions in front of everyone in the village stopped him from dropping the hammer and covering his ears. He looked at Gobber, who was grinning. </span>
</p><p class="western">“<span>Not bad! Keep going until you’ve made it nice and thin. We want these to be forks, okay?”</span></p><p class="western">
  <span>Hiccup grimaced, but swung again. It was slightly less horrible now he knew what to expect, but only slightly. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>He worked at it the best he could, grimacing and clenching his hands around his hammer, but after one particularly loud strike he couldn’t bear it anymore. He dropped the hammer and stood there, shaking. </span>
</p><p class="western">“<span>Hiccup? Why’d you stop?” Gobber asked, looking at him in concern. He took a step forwards.</span></p><p class="western">“<span>I CAN’T!” Hiccup yelled, his hands coming up to cover his ears. “I CAN’T I CAN’T IT’S TOO LOUD!” And he sprinted out of the forge, barely remembering to grab his winter coat and hat before heading straight into the forest. He ran until his chest was heaving and his breath was fogging in front of him and the shaking of his body had eased slightly. </span></p><p class="western">
  <span>He finally remembered the coat and hat he was still holding in his hands, and shoved them on. The warmth helped him calm down further, and the thick fur of the bearskin hat helped muffle even the mild sounds of the forest. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Hiccup found an area of ground fairly free of snow, and sank down. He took several long moments just to breathe, before reluctantly standing back up. He should probably head back. He really didn’t want Gobber telling his dad.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>He trudged back to the forge, trying to convince himself to go back to wielding that hammer. Despite the noise, he really did enjoy his apprenticeship with Gobber, and he knew Gobber would only poke fun in a lighthearted way at his behaviours. But running out of the forge in the middle of the work day was entirely different. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>He found himself approaching the forge, and raised his head in confusion when the sound of Gobber’s hammer was quieter than usual. His hand raised absentmindedly to his ear, and he realised it was the hat. Maybe…</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Hiccup walked sheepishly into the forge, discarding his jacket, but leaving his bearskin hat firmly on his head. “I’m sorry, Gobber.” He said, looking down at the floor. </span>
</p><p class="western">“<span>Just don’t do it again.” Gobber patted him roughly on the shoulder before heading back to the forge. “Aren’t you going to take your hat off? You’ll sweat your hair off.”</span></p><p class="western">“<span>It’s fine.” Hiccup picked up his hammer and nervously approached the forge again. Gobber had used the time he was away to cut the metal into fork strips. </span></p><p class="western">“<span>Now we’re putting the tines in them. So grab the wedge, and hammer it in so there’s three prongs.” Gobber directed. Hiccup followed his direction, and swung the hammer. </span></p><p class="western">
  <span>The clang was still loud, and he still felt the vibrations going up his arm, but it was manageable. The hat muffled the sound enough that he could function. Hiccup sighed in relief and swung again. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>That day, when he got home, he hung the hat on a peg on the wall. He’d be taking it to the forge every day from now on. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know almost nothing about blacksmithing</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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